The Silver Branch: A Bones Christmas Special
by MortalCoil31
Summary: Booth wants to spend Christmas with his son. But first, he has to catch a serial killer with the help of two new FBI partners, who have very strange ideas about the identity of the killer. When the killer leaves behind a severed hand, Bones gets involved.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The Tree in the Lab

The wind was blowing dead leaves across the lawn of the Jeffersonian Institute. All the rose bushes were dry and bare. As Dr. Temperance Brennan passed through the middle of the lawn, the wind picked up just enough to spray her with the fountain's mist. She let out a discreet expletive. Why would they leave the fountain running in the middle of winter? Probably for some irrational, aesthetic reason.

She had her eyes lowered to the ground in front of her, trying to compress herself to conserve warmth. She was walking very rapidly; maybe she could reach the door before her fingers were numb. Head lowered, walking fast; she hoped no one would run into her.

She never saw Booth coming. She wasn't sure which she noticed first, their bodies colliding or the flurry of papers which the wind blew away.

"Come on, Bones!" Booth said impatiently, rushing to retrieve his papers.

Brennan stood watching him. She was equally irritated.

"Well, I was obviously not paying attention," she said. "Why didn't you call attention to yourself?"

"Don't make this my fault!" he said. "I was reading important Bureau papers, what were you doing? Huh?"

"Conserving warmth," she said plainly.

"Well, there you go," he said.

"My comfort outweighs yours because I'm more indispensable."

"Whatever, why don't you just help me pick these up?" he asked.

"I figured an old-fashioned gentleman wouldn't want a lady to help him," she said.

"You know, sometimes you're a real-"

Something occurred to her. "What were you doing in the Jeffersonian, anyway?" she asked.

"Well, for your information, I came to tell you you're on your own for the holidays," he said, stuffing the last of his papers back in a leather folder.

"Why? Family time?"

"No, Bones, I have a normal case to deal with. A good, old-fashioned serial killer."

"How is that normal?" she asked as Booth walked back toward her.

"Because the victims aren't burned, rotten, or partially eaten," he said, stopping about a foot away. "I can finally stay in the same building as the corpse."

"I'm happy for you," she said unconvincingly.

"Well, I'm not looking forward to it, to be honest. They've got me put with some weird agent I've never even heard of. Guy's a fruitcake."

"A squint?"

"A squint without credentials."

"Poor Booth," she said. "At least you have all the people skills." Maybe that would cheer him up. She'd say something kind to make up for her wisecracks.

"Ha ha, very funny," he said. While he was rearranging his papers, he missed the momentary, hurt look on Brennan's face. "Well, no time to waste. I have to get this finished before Christmas Day. Big plans."

"With Parker?"

"Yup. Mom's caught some of the Christmas spirit, she feels like sharing." He smiled sardonically.

"That's great," she said, trying to sound more earnest this time.

"Thanks, Bones," he said. "But I really should go, this guy is waiting for me." His cell phone rang. "There he is again."

Booth pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked off. Brennan watched him go for a minute, then turned back to the steps leading to the doorway. She sighed. Booth was usually a staunch defender of Christmas frivolities. Evidently, something had upset his composure. Such was the magical spirit of Christmas: it deserted its most loyal supporters when they needed it most. It occurred to Brennan that this was strong support for her more rational assessment of this commercial nightmare. Booth's attitude had actually undermined his own position. Reflecting on that, she felt a little better.

"What do you think?" Angela asked, stepping back and crossing her arms to admire her efforts. She looked over at Hodgins. His eyebrows were raised in what looked like disbelief.

"Um…" he said, pursing his lips. "It's a skillful assemblage, but…"

"What?" she asked.

"Dr. Brennan's going to freak," he said, laughing.

"All part of the plan," said Angela.

At that moment, they heard footsteps approach. Dr. Brennan's voice asked, "What is that? Angela!"

"Hey, sweetie!" Angela smiled her most manipulative smile. This would be tricky.

"That thing has no place in our lab," said Temperance. "You know that. This is a delicate, nearly sterile environment, and foliage-"

"It's not foliage, it's a Christmas tree," said Angela slowly, "it's artificial, and it's not like I put it on top of a microscope. It's just in the corner."

"Angela…" said Brennan.

"Hodgins liked it. He called it a skillful assemblage," she said, flashing a smile at the bug man.

Hodgins smiled nervously. "I'll be at the party," he said weakly. He retreated with rather undignified haste.

"That thing has to go," said Brennan. Her voice was tight with righteous indignation.

"But look at it," said Angela. "The assemblage is so skillful."

"That's not-" Brennan spared the tree a glance. "It is admirably balanced, if not perfectly symmetrical," she admitted.

"There! See?"

"But who knows how much dust, how many contaminants-"

"Well, I'm not moving it. It took forever to decorate."

"It has to go!" "Well, looks like you'll have to do it yourself," said Angela sweetly. "Maybe you can put it in the party room. Where everyone else is."

Brennan let out a cough of incredulity. "That's what this is about? A ploy to force me to attend the Christmas party?"

"Come on, sweetie, you'd really enjoy it this year. Zack baked a cake."

"Zack?" she asked, impressed in spite of herself.

"With help from me. And it's in the shape of a skull."

"As tempting as that it, I have work to do. Christmas is still a week away. The holiday is irrational enough without celebrating it in the wrong week."

"We're doing it now because Zack is visiting his family Christmas week. I told you that."

"Well, I'm not going."

"Not even for the skull cake?" "No!"

"Well, I guess the Christmas tree is going to keep you company," she said, and marched from the lab with Brennan's protests following her. She would come around.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The Body in the Library

Booth looked up at the stone house. At least four stories. Hard to tell when the roof had so many layers. There might be an extra gym tucked somewhere in there. What would a lonely bachelor want with a house that size anyway?

He walked up the long, gravel driveway to the various FBI vehicles parked around the front door. Some of the agents he knew smiled briefly at him.

"Sure is cold, ain't it?" one said.

"Record low for D.C., I heard," said another.

"Good time to be at home with the family," said the first. "For Christmas."

"Well," said Booth briskly, "let's get this wrapped up then."

"No pun intended," said an amused voice behind him.

Booth turned to see a man dressed in a long black coat. One of their agents. Tall as Booth. Rather shaggy dark hair. Open face with bright eyes. Not to be trusted.

Booth walked up to him, tried to smile. "Guess you're my partner for this job?"

"Well let's hope that doesn't last," said the agent lightly, apparently responding to the look on Booth's face. Booth wondered if he really looked that displeased.

"I just can't say I've ever heard of your department, what's it called again?"

"The X-Files," said the tall man patiently. "Hey, Scully," he called, "come meet our partner!"

There were two of these UFO fruit loops?

Out of the gathering of agents came a very short woman with reddish hair. She had a clipboard in one hand.

"Mulder," she said, "I don't think we belong here. There's nothing-" she looked at Booth- "_unique_ about this case."

Interesting assessment. Booth frowned slightly. Why did that woman's voice sound familiar? Almost like…

"Yes," said the tall man, "but Skinner's mother is Hungarian."

What? First of all, how did these two cranks know Assistant Director Skinner? Second, what did his mother's parentage have to do with the case? And what did the woman mean by _unique_? These agents had clearly worked together a long time. Good rapport, few words. What was Booth missing about all this?

"Plus, there was goat hair in the first victim's house," said Mulder.

"You guys know Skinner?" asked Booth, carefully letting a little disbelief into his tone.

"Intimately," said Mulder with a grin. "Never forget the time we held each other at gun point."

"We don't have time for this, Mulder," said Scully with a sigh. "I have a large Catholic family waiting for me to come home for Christmas."

"Right. Lead the way, Scully."

The man's corpse lay in his library. He had a solid, square face with short gray hair. A face with a gaping mouth and staring eyes. He was dressed in a green silk house robe. It was darkened in several places around his torso. Bloodstains, of course.

"Victim was stabbed repeatedly with something moderately sharp," said Agent Scully, stooping over the body. "He died from asphyxiation." She peered at the man's throat. Surely she wouldn't touch those bruises on his neck, Booth thought. She was wearing gloves, but still, she wouldn't. Then she did.

"Mulder, these are from a chain," she said. "This man was strangled by a large chain of some kind." She stood and rubbed her forearms with her hands, even though she hadn't removed her coat.

Mulder wasn't looking at her. Since they had entered the library, he had been pacing around the room. Playing the part of Sherlock, thought Booth. Mulder had glanced at a few of the books on the shelves, he had kneeled and examined part of the carpet, he had scrutinized the ceiling- the ceiling? What could be on the ceiling? Seriously, where was this guy from?

At the moment, he was looking under a table near the doorway. There was a matching table closer to the corpse, which he hadn't reached yet.

"Scully, can you check under that table?" he asked. He waved a hand in her direction.

"What am I looking for?" she asked evenly. Apparently, she took this guy seriously.

"A branch, maybe, made of some silvery material."

Scully spent a minute or two looking under the table.

"There's no branch, Mulder," she said as she climbed out from under.

"Huh," said Mulder. Guy looked surprised there weren't silvery branches lying around.

"Why a silver branch?" asked Scully.

Mulder glanced at her, then at Booth, then looked back at her.

"I'll tell you at the office," he said significantly.

That did it, Booth had had enough of this crap. "Okay, you want to let me know what's going on here?" he asked, putting his hands on his belt with his arms akimbo.

"Look man," said Mulder, shrugging, "you don't like us, we don't trust you, I'm good with that."

"Yeah, well I'm not," said Booth tersely. "We're trying to catch a killer here, probably serial, going by the Jennings woman's death. If we have to work together, I expect you to put your cards on the table, got it?"

"Let's just keep calm, gentleman," said Scully calmly. "Mulder, maybe we should be honest with Agent Booth."

"I'm being honest," said Mulder. "I haven't lied once."

"You're not being forthright," said Scully.

They gave each other a long look. Booth could tell by their eyes that several messages got telegraphed before they spoke.

"I looked at your records, Agent Booth," said Scully.

Booth knew her remark was really directed at Mulder. "Yeah?" he asked, playing along. He liked this girl. Very rational.

"You served in Somalia and Kosovo," she said. "On very dangerous missions. You were once interrogated by terrorists in hopes you would give up valuable information, is that correct?" Where did that come from? Booth calmed himself. He always felt something rising in his stomach when people talked about his work. But this woman wasn't being disrespectful. Maybe not insensitive. Just- factual. Almost like…

"What does that have to do with this job?" he asked. His voice was softer than he'd intended it to be, but that was better than chewing her out.

"I'd say you're a man to be trusted," she said. She looked at Mulder with a strangely gentle expression. "My partner hasn't met many of those."

Booth looked from one to the other. The room had suddenly become much more solemn. He couldn't be sure- maybe they were just cranks- but they seemed like they'd seen a lot. Almost as if they'd been in combat together.

"What exactly do you people do?" he asked.

Scully sighed. "Do you want to tell him?"

Mulder shook his head. "You'd be more convincing."

"The X-Files is a unit that investigates anomalous phenomena," Scully said. "Whenever something seems too unbelievable or superstitious for more respectable departments, it gets sent to us."

"I've heard about the aliens," said Booth.

"The possibility of extraterrestrial life is only a part of our research," Scully said. "We've investigated a wide variety of biological anomalies, many of which are undoubtedly terrestrial in origin."

"You're going to lose him, Scully," said Mulder. "No offense, Booth, but she's a little too intellectual for me sometimes."

"It's fine, I'm used to it," said Booth sincerely. Honestly, he could usually catch the drift of Bones' babble; he just liked to make her simplify it. "So what kind of anomalies are we talking here?"

Mulder answered this time. "Swamp people. Bigfoot. Vampires. Poltergeists. You name it."

"Agent Mulder is used to being disbelieved," said Scully, glaring at him. "He's been in the X-Files longer than I have."

"She was sent to be a little spy, report on how kooky I was," Mulder said.

"I was sent to provide a more objective, scientific perspective on Mulder's work. But in the years I've worked with the X-Files…" She paused. Booth raised his eyebrows. "I find myself persuaded by the plausibility of- _some_- of our cases."

Booth blew out a long breath. "Okay, so you're like Ghostbusters or something."

"We sometimes investigate the paranormal," said Scully, a little coldly.

There was a beat of silence. Booth could see why they didn't like sharing this information with new people. Still, why did it matter that he'd held up under interrogation?

"So you're afraid I'll laugh at you or something?" Booth asked. "I don't see what my career has to do with this."

"We've had some unpleasant experiences," Scully said. "Agents have been assigned to help us who-"

"Actually wanted to kill us," Mulder finished. "Like Krycek. He was a real charmer."

"So- Look, I don't want to be a jerk, but- Conspiracy theories, too? Big Brother government?"

"Ever seen one of these?" Mulder asked abruptly, pulling a pen out of his pocket.

"It's a pen," said Booth. Was this guy totally nuts?

"So you think," said Mulder. He was unscrewing the pen. "But when its innards are unveiled…" He passed the pen to Booth.

Booth accepted it with one eyebrow raised. He looked down at it.

"Good Lord," he said softly.

The inside of the pen was covered in wires, bulbs, and microchips. It looked like a tiny computer. And it was the real thing, not something Mulder had put together from an Army surplus store to wow unbelievers. He had seen bugs like this once or twice before. But never in a pen.

"Some lady switched this pen with Scully's while she was at the bank," Mulder said. "About the time we were investigating a lead on some E.B.E.'s." He took the pen back. "I think Scully's pen was a little cheaper than this."

Booth blew out his breath again, this time impressed. Were these guys really onto something after all? He didn't have time to think about aliens. But maybe they had a little more credibility. At the least, they might have uncovered some government corruption. That would definitely explain their wariness, and the deep connection they obviously had.

"All right," he said, "but I'm not sure how I can convince you I'm not going to kill you."

Mulder smiled a lopsided smile. "You can't," he said. "Pretty much everyone's tried to kill me at some point. But I'll settle for a little respect."

Booth looked at him. This time, he really studied that face. Open? No, more like resigned. World-weary. The eyes had that special hardness that Booth recognized well. From his own reflection. Mulder had killed someone, and it hadn't been while he was on the job. Probably in self-defense. That didn't help the guilt.

"I think I can manage that," said Booth.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Two Women on the Case

The forensics team had invaded one of the conference rooms at the Jeffersonian. Angela had put runners on all the tables, hung paper snowflakes from the ceiling, and covered most of the lights with red or green paper. Hodgins had used his laptop (a new Macintosh) to form a five-hour play list of carols. Zack had brought the skull cake.

The cake sat on the central table. It was covered with butter cream icing. While he and Angela were preparing the cake, Zack had insisted that particular icing most resembled the actual yellowish color of a human cranium. Angela had tried to tell him a skull cake shouldn't be too lifelike, but Zack had only replied confusedly that a totally exposed skull would result in death. So she let him use the yellow icing.

At the moment, she kept glancing at the door to the conference room. The party had lasted an hour already. Brennan still hadn't come in. Maybe she really would tolerate the tree. Or maybe she had thrown it away and continued working. If she did show up, it would be real progress.

"Angela," said Hodgins, licking his lips, "we should cut the cake."

"Not until Brennan comes in," said Angela.

"She's not coming."

"She never comes," added Zack.

"It's not like you're starving," said Angela. "Eat some more pretzels."

"The pretzels don't have enough sugar," said Hodgins. "I'm going to start suffering from hypoglycemia."

Angela laughed. "You have a sweet tooth? I didn't think there was anything sweet about you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," said Hodgins.

It was unclear what he wanted to convey by his tone. Either flirty, mysterious, or both. Silly boys. So unversed in the arts of communication.

"We'll wait for thirty more minutes," said Angela. "Brennan deserves to see our masterpiece. Right, Zack?"

"To be perfectly candid," said Zack, "I'm ready to enjoy the fruit of our labors."

"Zack!"

"I guess we could wait for thirty more minutes," said Zack quickly. "Anyway, the theory of relativity-"

At that moment, Brennan peaked her head through the door. She was still wearing a lab coat, and it looked like she hadn't washed up. She was smiling, though.

"Hey!" she said. "I just stopped by to say 'Hi' to everyone."

"Oh, no you didn't," said Angela. She rushed over to grab Brennan by the arm and drag her toward the table. "You're staying at least long enough to sample this cake. We haven't cut it because we've been waiting for you. I thought the boys were going to mutiny."

"I like cake," said Hodges.

"It's chocolate," said Zack defensively.

"Okay, okay," said Brennan with a laugh. "I guess I can try some- skull cake." She looked down at the yellow skull. "Zack," she said, "it's so accurate."

"Do you like it?" asked Zack, a little anxiously. "Angela thought it might be too lifelike."

"It's great!" said Brennan. "Angela helped you?"

"I did most of the sculpting," Angela said. "But Zack did the mixing and baking, so the taste is all his."

"And I'm sure it'll be fantastic," she added. Zack smiled.

"All right, so who wants to cut this baby?" asked Hodgins.

"Let Doctor Brennan do it," said Zack. "She would most likely do it if it were a real skull."

"Um… okay," said Brennan, taking the large knife consecrated for this purpose. "Where do I start?"

"Just like a normal cake. Don't think of it as a skull," said Angela.

Temperance looked at her helplessly.

"Wait… Seriously?" Angela smirked. "You've never cut a cake before?"

"A square one, but this is round. It's a whole new animal."

"You still cut it into squares, sweetie."

"Well, here goes nothing!"

Brennan cut into the yellow icing. Thankfully, the butter cream icing was soft; there was no realistic cracking noise. The inside was chocolate, as Zack had said: a particularly black chocolate, so that it looked as if Brennan had cut into a skull which really was hollow. The taste had better be worth it, thought Angela. She had hoped the cutting would destroy all of the cake's verisimilitude.

Brennan put a piece of cake on a plastic plate.

"Who wants the first piece?" she asked, holding up the plate.

"I do," said Hodgins.

"Doctor Brennan should try it first," said Zack.

Angela held back her smile. She had suspected Zack didn't really want to cut the cake without Brennan. It looked like she was right. Good thing she had held out.

Brennan didn't hide her smile. She took up a fork. They all watched as she tasted it: Zack anxiously, Hodgins with fascination. Angela watched with satisfaction. Forget the taste. She had already accomplished her goals for today.

For a few minutes, Brennan didn't say anything. She took a long time to chew and swallow the first bite. Zack began chewing his lip.

Finally, Brennan spoke. "It's very good."

"You really think so?" asked Zack, trying to sound detached.

"I do," she said. "Of course, gustation is purely subjective, so I can only speak for myself."

"Well, I'm ready to find out what my gustation says," Hodgins declared.

"Me too," said Angela.

"I wouldn't mind a piece," said a voice from the door.

They all turned to see Booth leaning against the doorframe. Straightening up, he came toward them with a smile.

"Is that a skull cake?" he asked.

"Zack and Angela created it," Temperance explained. "It's really good."

"So I heard," he said. "So- piece for me?"

"Not so fast," said Hodgins, "I've been looking at it for the past hour. I'm going next."

"Sure thing, bug man," said Booth. "But I'm next."

"What are you doing here, Booth?" Temperance asked abruptly.

They all froze for a moment and looked at her.

Booth raised his eyebrows. "Sorry?"

By now, it was clear she had a puzzled look on her face. She was still smiling, though, which made a rather disconcerting picture. "You said we wouldn't be seeing you until after the holiday. Did you have a change of heart?"

So, she wasn't unhappy to see him, just surprised. Booth was pretty sure she could have worded her question more diplomatically if she'd given it a little effort.

"Well, Bones, why don't we talk about that after the party? No shop talk," he answered.

"No, it's fine," she said. "We can step outside if you'd rather."

"Um…" Booth looked to Angela.

"It's okay," said Angela. "I got her in here for a piece of cake. That's a big victory."

"If you're sure." Booth nodded to Hodgins, ignored Zack's wave, and headed to the door.

* * *

><p>"What's going on, Booth?"<p>

They were sitting in two chairs, on the lounge overlooking the lab. Booth had leaned back in his chair and expelled a long breath.

"Looks like I'm gonna need your help after all," he said.

"Why?"

"This serial killer case just went into your territory. First two victims, the killer just left the bodies. This time he ate part of the body."

"And you only found the part he cut off?"

"Afraid so."

"How do you know it's a related killing, then?" asked Temperance.

"Ah, see that's where it gets interesting," said Booth sardonically. "I'll need to introduce you to two friends of mine. The other agents on the case."

"Okay, where are they?"

"They're in the lobby outside. You ready?"

"You have no idea," said Temperance. "I've been trying to find work all day."

"I'm not going to think about that," said Booth. He rose from his chair and started toward the lobby.

Brennan got up, too. Apparently, he didn't see any need to explain that statement. "What do you mean?"

"People don't look for work at Christmastime, and I'm going to pretend you're normal in that way at least."

"It's not Christmastime. Christmas is a week away."

"Just don't say anything else, Bones, please."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The Hand in the Bag

She met Booth's new partners in the rose garden outside. They had left the lobby to make a call on a cell phone. Brennan tried to ignore the cold as she took in a few details.

They looked like normal FBI agents. They wore black coats over plain suits. One was a tall man with brown hair, one a short woman with red hair. Both Anglo-American in descent, thought Brennan. The man carried a manila folder. The woman wore a small gold cross around her neck. Possibly religious.

"Doctor Brennan, this is Agent Mulder," said Booth, gesturing to the man. He indicated the woman next. "And this is Agent Scully."

"Pleased to meet you," said Brennan. She shook hands with each of them.

"Doctor Brennan is the world's leading forensic anthropologist," said Booth.

"Yes, I'm familiar with Doctor Brennan's work," said Agent Scully.

A smile appeared on Temperance's face. "You are?" she asked.

Scully smiled in return. "Yes, I thought your reconstructive work in Guatemala was admirable. It's unusual for anthropologists to be so reserved in their conclusions."

"It wasn't easy with the drug lords waving guns at me the whole time," said Brennan.

"Believe me, I know the feeling," said Scully.

"So do you have scientific training?" asked Brennan.

"I trained at Quantico for a while. I mostly did medical work there, but I have a background in physics."

"Um, girls?" Booth broke in. "Can we get on with the case?"

Scully's eyebrows rose slightly. "Sorry," she said without much conviction.

"It's a serial killer, right?" asked Brennan.

"Right," said Booth. "Three victims, unrelated as far as we can tell. No discernible pattern." Mulder handed Booth the manila folder. Booth removed some papers, to which photographs had been attached by paperclip. "First victim: Deborah Jennings. Poverty-level, lived in the projects, cocaine addict. Killed her boyfriend for it. Just got out of prison October twenty-ninth. No known relatives." He handed her the file on Jennings. "Second victim: Gregory Fanshaw."

"Wait! I know him," said Brennan. "He works in the stock market."

"Wall Street genius," said Booth.

"He embezzled money or something?"

"Nearly two million dollars," Mulder said. "Paid off the jury at his trial, too."

Scully spoke up. "That was never proven."

Mulder just rolled his eyes.

"No known relatives?" asked Brennan.

"Nope," said Booth. "Not even a second-cousin."

"Well, that's one thing they have in common," she said. She looked at their pictures. A haggard, pockmarked woman's face; a square, fleshy man's face. One in prison garb, one in an Armani suit.

"There's something else they have in common, Doctor Brennan," Mulder said.

"They're both criminals?" she guessed.

"Exactly. It's my belief we're dealing with some kind of vigilante."

"That's reasonable, especially since their socio-economic disparity rules out so many factors. Except that their crimes are vastly different in nature. One ended a single life herself, one ruined thousands of lives long-distance. And the law already punished Jennings."

"She didn't serve her whole sentence," said Mulder, "she got out early for good behavior. And I also have an idea about why the crimes are so different."

"What?" Brennan asked. This Agent Mulder was getting very excited. He was already working from hasty intuition, without sufficient data to back up his hunch. She might have trouble working with that.

"I think the killer is working his way up a scale of guilt," said Mulder. "First she takes out a woman who killed her boyfriend because she was having withdrawals, arguably not wholly culpable. Then she takes out someone who knew what he was doing, but didn't do it directly. Cold-hearted but not really malicious. The next crime-"

"Did you say 'she'?" Brennan said. "Most serial killers are male."

"Did I?" Mulder asked, smiling. "Must've been a slip of the tongue."

"You said it twice," she said.

"Well then, I'll look pretty smart if the killer's a woman," he replied.

Brennan's brow crinkled. Unversed as she was in social norms, she was sure that was an odd response. It wasn't even the kind of thing Booth would say. She tried to think what it could mean. Possibly, Agent Mulder already had an idea who the killer was. If he was the intuitive type, he wouldn't care whether she agreed with him.

"So what about the third victim's remains?" she asked. "That's what I'm good at. Not psychology."

Booth quickly explained. "Earlier this morning, a street vendor selling hot dogs found a bag placed on the sidewalk. He called the police because he thought it might be a bomb. Police open the bag, they find…" -he handed her a picture- "… a hand."

"What makes you think this involves the serial killer?"

"The bag was covered in goat hair," said Booth.

Brennan didn't know what to make of this goat hair motif. To hide her confusion, she examined the picture. "Judging by this photo, it hasn't been severed from the body for very long. Possibly a day."

"Anything else?" Booth asked.

"If you want more than that, I need the actual hand," she said.

"Okay, Mulder, you call and get that hand delivered to the Jeffersonian," said Booth. "Agent Scully, would you fill Doctor Brennan in on the X-Files?" Booth walked off, pulling his own cell phone out of his pocket.

"The what?" Brennan asked.

"That's the department Mulder and I belong to," said Scully. "We investigate anomalous phenomena, mainly of a biological nature."

"How is that FBI work?"

"The phenomena usually involve the death of a human being," Scully replied.

"Like, bear mauling?" Brennan asked. This didn't make sense. That work usually went to park rangers.

Scully sighed. "To be honest, Doctor Brennan, we usually investigate monsters." She looked over at the fountain. Brennan wondered if she was embarrassed. "Like Bigfoot."

"Oh," said Brennan. Normally, she would point out that such cryptozoology was speculative at best. But it looked like Scully knew that.

"Since I'm a fellow scientist, I know how ridiculous that sounds," Scully went on. "Actually, since I'm familiar with your work, I'm twice as embarrassed talking about this. But there have been some cases with enough empirical evidence that- well, I believed."

"I haven't heard of your work," Brennan said cautiously.

"Most of our evidence is either destroyed or confiscated by our superiors," said Scully.

"I see," said Brennan.

"Look, I know how this sounds," said Scully. "If it makes me any more credible, maybe I should tell you I wasn't interested in the X-Files. I was assigned to Agent Mulder to provide a more objective view of his research."

Brennan did understand Scully's embarrassment. Brennan also had to justify her conclusions fairly often, now that Dr. Saroyan was her administrator. Maybe she could reassure Scully. But she couldn't complain about her administrator to an FBI agent. Maybe she could find another way to relate to Scully? That sounded like a good people-skills thing to do. She said, "No, it's fine. Agent Booth is quite religious. I'm used to working with superstitious people."

Scully blinked. She wasn't sure how to answer that one. Dr. Brennan had made that comment as if to reassure her, but it wasn't very reassuring to know Brennan did regard the X-Files as superstitious.

Maybe that had worked, thought Brennan. "So how did you become involved in this case?"

"Agent Mulder discovered it," said Scully. "He got a tip from someone that there was goat hair in the house of Deborah Jennings. Since she lived in the inner city, that's definitely unusual. But he still hasn't told me why that makes this case X-Files material."

"Was there anything unusual about the other murder?"

"Just that he died from asphyxiation. After being strangled by a chain."

Agent Mulder walked back up to them. He was putting his cell phone back in his pocket. "Okay, Doctor Brennan, the hand is all yours. It should be over here before the day is out."

"I'll get to work as soon as it comes," said Brennan.

"Scully tell you about the X-Files?" Mulder asked.

"We were just discussing that," said Brennan. "I understand you think the goat hair found in the Jennings house was significant."

"That's right. But I'd rather not say why till we get more information about that hand."

"That could be some time, but I'll try to make it happen as quickly as possible." Brennan looked back at the Jeffersonian. "My coworkers aren't eager to work on Christmas."

"Who is, right?" Mulder said. "Well, we can't do much till that hand is analyzed. I might go get some hot chocolate, would you like some?"

"Thanks, but no," said Brennan. "There's plenty inside if you'd like some of ours."

"Don't mind if I do," said Mulder.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Three Agents in the Lab

In the end, all three FBI agents decided to follow Dr. Brennan for some hot chocolate. When they entered the lab, Scully's walk slowed until she stopped completely. She stared at everything, turning a complete circle.

"Very impressive," she said at last.

"I can work with what I have," said Brennan.

"Glad to see your administrators appreciate your work," Mulder said.

"Yeah," said Brennan flatly, thinking of Dr. Saroyan. "My administrator's absent for the holidays."

"So where's the hot chocolate?" Mulder went on.

He spoke as if he hadn't noticed her odd tone of voice, but Scully was used to her partner's body language. Mulder had taken in Dr. Brennan's apparent dislike of her superiors. When it came to people, he didn't miss much. That's why, UFOs or not, he was the best psychological profiler in the FBI. Psychology. Scully remembered Dr. Brennan's disparaging comment on psychology, in the rose garden. This would be an interesting case.

"The hot chocolate is in a conference room," said Brennan. "This way."

The conference room was quite large, but only three people were in it when the agents arrived. Scully's medical eye noted that they were all in good health. One of the men, who had wiry curled hair, was better built than she expected from a research scientist. The other two were equally unlikely-looking. The second man- boy?- couldn't be older than most undergrads. The woman dressed in an elf costume didn't look like a scientist at all.

They stopped talking when Scully and the others came in.

"Everyone," said Brennan, "this is Agent Scully, and this is Agent Mulder. They're from the FBI."

"Hence the 'Agent' in front of their names," said the man with wiry hair.

"And this is Jack Hodgins," she went on, gesturing to the man. "He's our resident entomologist."

"Pleased to meet you," he said. He gave each of them a handshake.

As Brennan completed the introductions, Booth sneaked over to the table bearing all the food. He picked up a white carafe and poured some hot chocolate into a plastic cup. He took a sip, and promptly cursed.

They all turned to look at him.

"Hot," he said.

"I'll be the judge of that," said Mulder, moving over to the table.

"Hey, if you think you can take it better than me-" said Booth. He smirked at Mulder.

"We'll see, we'll see," said Mulder.

He didn't sip his chocolate. He took a full gulp. Brennan winced as Mulder made the most pained face she had ever seen on a (live) body, then said, "Pretty hot," in a weak voice.

Angela sighed. Looking at Scully and shaking her head, she said, "Boys."

"He's usually better behaved," said Scully, crossing her arms.

"It's the Christmas spirit," said Angela. "Speaking of which, you should all just forget about this case and add to our Christmas party."

"That's tempting," said Mulder, "and if it wasn't a serial killer, we might take you up on that."

Angela was going to reply, but then she looked more closely at Agent Mulder. Tall, dark, tolerably handsome. Hmm. She smiled at him.

She looked over at Scully again. "I know this is rude, but- are you two a _thing_?" She pointed to Mulder.

"Um, not exactly," said Scully. It was a question she had asked herself often the past year.

"But he's not exactly free," Angela said sympathetically. She shot another smile at Mulder. "Too bad."

"Don't you have tinsel to spread somewhere?" Brennan said. "We're trying to maintain a professional atmosphere."

"Sorry, sorry! Probably just too much eggnog. Have fun on your serial killer case!"

Brennan answered, "Speaking of which, a severed human hand should stop by the lab sometime today. When it does, I want everyone on the job. The serial killer struck twice within a twenty-four-hour period, so we have no time to lose."

Angela shrugged. "Right, I guess that's the rational thing to do."

"Thanks, Angela," said Brennan. "Until then, feel free to continue with the party."

"With a severed hand on my mind," Hodgins said. "Right."

"Severed hand. Makes me think of the Addams Family," said Angela.

"The Addams family? I haven't heard of that case. Is there a possible connection there?" Brennan asked eagerly.

"No, sweetie," said Angela sadly. "No possible connection."

Scully and Mulder exchanged a glance. Who were these people?

The hand came in sometime around four in the afternoon. Dr. Brennan got to work immediately. First, she examined it herself, in a brief overview; next, it went to Hodgins, who she hoped could determine the most likely crime scene. Once Hodgins had taken over, she and Zack went to report their findings to Mulder and Scully.

The two agents were sitting in the lounge where Brennan had joined Booth earlier. Mulder was sipping more hot chocolate. They both rose as the scientists approached.

"What'd you find out?" he asked.

"I'm interested in your theory," Brennan said. "The bite marks on the hand were definitely female. Zack?"

"Size of the bite indicates female mouth," said Zack, consulting some notes. "Pattern strongly indicates human."

"You can't be sure if they're from a human mouth?" Mulder asked. Judging by his prompting tone, it seemed like he'd expected that.

Zack looked at Dr . Brennan. She nodded.

"The pattern of the teeth is ambiguous," he admitted. "While strongly resembling the teeth of a female human, various earmarks are more in keeping with another conclusion."

"Like another animal?" Mulder asked.

Zack said, "Yes. A female goat."

Scully looked sharply at Mulder, who was almost smiling.

Dr. Brennan said, "I'd like to hear your theory about the goat hair found in Deborah Jennings's house."

"I think we all would," Scully agreed.

"I don't," said Zack. "Premature theorizing might bias my judgment."

"You can go check up on Hodgins," said Brennan. "We'll go to my office and hear Agent Mulder's theory."

Mulder said, "Where's Agent Booth? We should tell him, too. I prefer to tell my crazy stories just once."

Booth was in the lab, on his cell phone again. They came up, and he tried to wave them off.

"Yeah," he was saying, "I know, but-"

"Booth," said Brennan.

"Listen, can't we just-" Booth spoke into the phone.

"Booth!" said Brennan. Booth was being quite rude, she was sure of that.

"Maybe this isn't the best time," said Mulder.

"It's fine," said Brennan. "Booth!" "Just a minute, Bones!" said Booth impatiently. Then he spoke again into his phone. "… What? Just a coworker." After glaring at her, Booth moved off to the other side of the lab.

"What's the problem?" Mulder asked Brennan.

"I don't know," she said. "He's being ridiculous."

"Well, he looks pretty distraught about something," said Mulder.

Brennan's brow crinkled. "He does?" she said.

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other.

"Um, don't think me rude, Doctor Brennan, but I'd say you're not a people person," said Mulder.

"Definitely not. I hate psychology," she said.

"Well, take it from a psychologist, Agent Booth has a good reason for ignoring us right now. Maybe I'll explain my theory just to you, after all."

Brennan looked over at Booth, who now stood a good distance away. Booth held the phone in one hand, and was running the other through his hair. He dropped the hand and looked at the ceiling as if in prayer. She suddenly guessed what the phone call was about.

"Okay," she said. "My office is this way."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Tempus Occidendi

Brennan and Scully both took seats in the office. Mulder sauntered around the room and examined the artifacts on the shelves.

"So, Agent Mulder. I'm interested to hear your speculations," said Brennan.

"Is that a Tibetan thighbone trumpet?" asked Mulder. He pointed to an oddly shaped trumpet on one shelf.

"Tantric Buddhists refer to it as a kangling," said Brennan. "It's used in funeral rituals."

"Right. The thighbone has to come from a murderer," said Mulder.

"Not always," Brennan said, "although that is preferred. Does that relate to your theory?"

"No, not really, it's just the only thing I recognize out of all this stuff. I've seen one before. An elderly Japanese man was using it to call up angry spirits. Needed to kill his enemies somehow."

Brennan didn't know what to say. Mulder was making direct eye contact with her, standing in a casual pose. He showed none of the usual signs of lying. Either he was a very good liar, or he was a crank. She looked at Mulder's partner. Dr. Scully was rubbing her forehead; she wouldn't make eye contact with Brennan.

"I don't actually believe in things that can't be verified empirically," Brennan said.

"Well, I don't either." Mulder smiled. "It's just, I've witnessed some interesting things firsthand."

"Well, let's say I don't believe in things that can't be verified intersubjectively."

"In that case, you're probably not interested in my theory after all."

"I'm interested to know how you guessed the gender of our serial killer," she said. "And I'd like to account for the goat hair in Jennings's house, along with the ambiguity of the bite marks. Those are hard facts that need rational explanation."

"What do you know about the origins of the Santa Clause myth?" Mulder asked.

The sudden change of subject caught her off guard. "Um… I hope you don't believe in Santa Clause too."

"I believe in a lot of legends. More than my fair share," he said.

"Mulder!" said Scully impatiently. Startled, Brennan and Mulder both looked at her. "Normally I back you up, but frankly I'm surprised Doctor Brennan is being this patient. When a serial killer is at large, I don't think that's the best time to be flippant."

Mulder blinked a few times. That was unexpected. He glanced back and forth between Scully and Brennan. Both had their arms crossed. Their faces bore almost the same expression. It was at that moment, looking at the two of them, that Mulder's considerable psychological powers told him something. Scully might be on his side, but she had found someone remarkably like her: neither fancifully speculative nor naively skeptical, but trained to suspect the sort of folklore he often consulted. Oh no, Mulder thought, they're multiplying. More Scullys.

"Okay," he said. "First, tell me what you know about Santa Clause. I promise it's relevant."

Brennan's arms uncrossed. But slowly. "The Santa Clause myth probably has its origins in Nordic folk mythology."

"Wait," said Scully, "I thought Santa was based on Saint Nicholas."

"The name 'Saint Nicholas' comes from a fourth-century archbishop of Myra, known for his charity toward the poor," said Brennan. "But the imagery and customs associated with Santa are probably Germanic in origin. His earlier images bear superficial resemblance to the god Wotan. Not to mention the entire Christmas holiday was assimilated into the Christian religion from pagan rituals."

"And what else is Germanic about Santa?" Mulder prompted.

"The reindeer are obviously Scandinavian," said Brennan. "As are his traditional garments. Most Eastern European Santa myths also involve the elf or dwarf archetype, notably in Santa's companion."

"Black Peter," said Mulder.

"Also known as the Krampus, or the Belsnickel. The legends vary, but all concern a demonic figure who punishes misbehaving children."

"Santa's opposite number," said Mulder.

"The Krampus is usually described as…" Brennan stopped.

She had been caught up in retrieving and reciting her knowledge of the legends. She had almost forgotten about the serial killer case. Suddenly, she had an idea why Mulder might think they were connected.

"Wait," she said. "You can't be suggesting-"

"So you think these serial killings are being committed by some kind of retributive figure from Christmas legends?" Scully asked, raising her eyebrows.

Mulder should have known this would be harder with the two of them together. He would have to be at his most factual.

"You yourself said the legends are much older than Christmas," he said to Dr. Brennan. "They reflect some of the Germanic peoples' oldest beliefs. Unlike Greek myth, they've mostly been forgotten because they didn't have a great poet to immortalize them. They seem improbable because they're not still around."

"No, they seem improbable because they're superstitious," said Brennan.

"I do think you need more evidence, Mulder," said Scully.

"You never finished describing the Krampus, Doctor Brennan," said Mulder. "A semi-human figure with the head of a goat, right? Other legends mention a figure dressed in female garb. Dragging around chains, with which it whips the children who haven't been good."

"I'm guessing these demons leave silver branches at the places they've visited?" Scully asked.

"They do," he said.

"But you never found a silver branch at Gregory Fanshaw's house," she said.

Mulder put one hand into the breast pocket of his coat. Scully and Brennan exchanged glances. Surely not.

He pulled out an evidence bag. Inside was a branch, about four inches long, that glimmered like tinsel in the dim lights of Brennan's office. A silver branch.

"I asked the forensics team after we left the Fanshaw residence," he said. "They had already pulled this from underneath the corpse. They thought it might have traces of the killer's DNA, but they couldn't find any."

"Because the killer doesn't have DNA?" Brennan asked sarcastically.

"I'm not saying this being is necessarily spiritual, or incorporeal," said Mulder. "And I'm not saying the legends describe it perfectly. But I think it's the best explanation."

Scully spoke up. "You have no evidence there's a demonic creature roaming around Washington. Even if this silver branch establishes a connection to the Krampus, it's more likely some psychotic human is obsessed with the Krampus myth."

"Using a chain to strangle her victims," said Brennan.

"Dressing up in some kind of goat garment," said Scully.

"But not inhuman," said Brennan.

"I'd agree with you both," said Mulder, "except that Deborah Jennings's house was sealed tight. No windows were unlatched or broken, no doors unlocked, no way to get in through the ceiling."

He smirked and added, "Not even a passable chimney."

"The killer used a spare key and locked herself out," said Brennan.

"Deborah Jennings didn't have a spare key. Nor did anyone else, because she had no relatives, lovers, or friends."

"She left one under the mat, in case she lost her other one."

Mulder shook his head. "Neighbors said she was highly suspicious of being burglarized. She didn't even leave her door unlocked when she watered her flowers."

Brennan sighed. "You're making an argument from ignorance. There are a dozen rational ways to explain your apparent locked-room mystery."

"I just shot down two of them," Mulder said. "Two down, ten to go."

Brennan was about to reply, when Booth came in.

"So," he said, "what'd I miss?"

Brennan interrupted Mulder's attempted explanation. "Agent Mulder thinks our serial killer is a demonic goat."

"A Krampus," said Mulder. "A demonic figure common in Christmas legends, who follows behind Santa Clause and punishes bad children."

Booth put his hands on his belt, arms akimbo. "Killer Santa," he said. "I'll put out an APB."

Gesturing emphatically the whole time, Mulder walked toward Booth. "Any truth to the legend really has nothing to do with Christmas. Demonic figures are a part of all major religions, and the most common feature of demons is association with a particular time or location. Halloween, midnight- why not winter solstice, the darkest night of the year?"

"So you're suggesting the demon became associated with Christmas because it's really associated with the solar cycle?" Scully asked.

"Maybe. Maybe this is just its time to kill."

Nobody said anything. Mulder looked from one face to another. Not a single face looked welcoming to his theory. Brennan's mouth was twisted in sullen skepticism. Booth was either disgusted or amused; Mulder couldn't tell which. Scully looked rather sorry for him, as if he'd finally crossed the line.

"Okay, fine. I can understand how improbable this sounds."

"Uh huh," said Booth.

"So let's do this: you keep searching for hard, scientific evidence, and see if it doesn't lead to my theory."

"I'd be happy to," said Brennan, "but hard science never leads to supernatural speculations."

Blah blah blah, thought Mulder, Popperian self-righteousness. "Just keep the possibility open. If I'm right, the victims will all be criminals, and each criminal's offense will be more heinous than the one before it. You should keep finding silver branches and goat hair at the crime scenes."

Brennan said, "Not that that would prove your theory."

Mulder shrugged. "Maybe if the killer struck somewhere else that's totally inaccessible."

"Still wouldn't prove the demon theory," said Brennan, though she did smirk a little.

Mulder smiled too. "How about I draw a circle, chant some spells, and call up the demon to confess her crimes?"

In spite of her efforts to remain coldly scientific, Dr. Brennan chuckled. "I'd inspect my hot chocolate," she said.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Sic et Non

Booth and Brennan were sitting in the lounge again. Their new FBI partners had gone to discuss the case between themselves, so Booth had suggested they get some more hot chocolate.

"How come you haven't tried it yet?" Booth asked. He pointed at Brennan's cup, which sat untouched on a small table by her chair.

"Oh," she said, looking at it. "I was just… thinking of how crazy Agent Mulder is."

"Eh, guy's a little crazy," he said, "but he's all right."

Judging by the way she looked at him, Brennan was both amused and puzzled.

"What? I just think he's a solid guy," he said. He sounded more defensive than he'd intended.

Brennan's expression changed to one of shock. Not surprise, not confusion- shock. "_Solid_? What part of his scientific reasoning did you find _solid_?"

"Well, you know Bones, I wasn't talking about his scientific reasoning."

She chewed on that for a minute. She thought it probably referred to some emotional or moral characteristic which Booth detected in Mulder. In her opinion, no one could be solid who entertained such pseudoscientific fantasies. It showed irresponsibility, caprice, and laziness. Well, she couldn't beat Booth at his own intuitive game, so she decided to change the subject.

"How's the hot chocolate?" she asked.

"Most Christmas I've had so far," said Booth, smiling bitterly.

That reminded her. "That phone call. That was about Parker?"

"Yeah, the mom's backtracking. You know, what kind of person doesn't want a father to spend Christmas with his son?"

"I'm sure she has a good reason," said Brennan without thinking.

Immediately, Booth became more angry. "Like what, Bones? Like what?" He glared at her, tensing as if about to jump up and attack her.

Despite her best efforts, Brennan felt a little scared by the sudden change. This must have been on his mind ever since he returned with Mulder and Scully. She had tried to justify Parker's mother because, in her experience, people felt more reassured when they thought they suffered for a good reason. She thought this would work especially with Booth, since he was Catholic. Maybe she should keep trying.

"Well," she said, "did you tell her about the case?"

He leaned back in his seat- rubbed his face. "I mentioned it, why?"

Perfect. "Before she changed her mind?"

"I don't remember! What are you getting at, Bones?"

"If you told her you were hunting a serial killer, she was probably afraid you wouldn't solve the case before you saw Parker."

"Well, I think I should be the judge of which comes first, work or family. Not her!"

"No, Booth- she was afraid the serial killer might be onto you. Might come after you. While you were with Parker." Brennan was not just trying to make Booth feel better. She might hate psychology, but that would be a rational concern for any mother. She felt mildly convinced her hypothesis was correct.

Apparently, Booth did as well. He didn't look angry anymore. Instead, he looked rather surprised.

"You know," he said, in a tone like the one he'd used when Angela had reconstructed a face from a mere jawbone, "you know, Bones- that… That makes sense."

She hadn't expected him to be so impressed. She found herself looking over at her hot chocolate. Avoiding his gaze. "You don't have to be so awestruck."

"I just don't know…" He checked himself.

"…why you didn't think of it," she finished.

He smiled. "I guess."

"You might be the people person," she said, "but you can't escape the fact that I'm a woman. Rebecca and I have that in common."

"I know, believe me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"So, about this case," said Booth in a professional tone. "I've sent out a notice all through the Bureau. Any corpses turn up with missing hands, we know about it first."

"I guess you haven't got a call?"

"Not so far."

At that moment, Booth's cell phone rang.

Booth crossed his fingers on one hand, and with the other he fished his phone out of his pocket.

"Booth," he said. "Yeah… Yeah… Really?… No way… Okay, thanks." He closed the phone and stood up.

"Come on," he said. "We've got to find Mulder and Scully."

"What is it?" Brennan asked.

"They found the body. Never guess where."

"Tell me."

"Prison. Maximum security."

* * *

><p>They found the two agents in the lobby. In a few terse words, Booth told them what he knew. Mulder was excusably delighted. Still, Booth thought, he didn't have to be quite that delighted.<p>

"What'd I tell you, Scully?" he said, briskly rubbing his hands together. "Somewhere inaccessible. We've got another legitimate X-Files case."

"More likely the inmate made enemies with the prison guards," said Scully. She and Brennan looked at each other and nodded wisely.

"Not this one," said Mulder. "Jose Gutierrez, I remember him. I investigated that prison. We had a phantom soldier killing people on that floor once. Jose was sentenced to life imprisonment for killing his wife and brother. All the guards agreed, he was the most cooperative murderer they've ever worked with."

"And he'd had no visitors?"

"None," said Booth.

Mulder said, "Even if he had, I think the guards would notice if a visitor chewed Jose's hand right off his arm."

Booth asked, "Why didn't they notice the killer Santa goat demon?"

"They don't stand by the door all day, like they would if he had a visitor. Plus, the doors in those prisons are so thick, the guards probably wouldn't hear anything unless they were paying attention. All the guards on Jose's floor have flawless records, by the way."

Booth asked, "And only the guards can unlock the cell door?"

"Right. I'd say this mystery is about as locked-room as they come."

"There's got to be a rational, scientific explanation," said Brennan. "Maybe if I visited the prison-"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Bones," said Booth. "Not this prison."

"Why not?"

Oh, boy. Her darned independence again. "Well- it'd just ruin my Christmas, okay?"

She gave him a look she usually spared for those singing stuffed animals you saw on Valentine's Day. It was worth it. They wouldn't argue about whether she could take care of herself.

Scully said, "You can take my word for it, Doctor Brennan, this prison is secure."

"Well…" Brennan sighed. "I still find this demon hypothesis unacceptable."

"It's good enough for me," Mulder said.

"Not surprisingly," said Scully. "But I'm willing to entertain the hypothesis. At least long enough to test it." She gave Brennan an expectant look.

"How do you test magic?" Brennan asked.

"Play by its rules," Mulder answered. "We try to figure out where this demon would stay in between kills. Then we see if it's there."

"And if we don't find anything, you'll say you didn't guess the right place."

"Give me three tries."

"Two."

"Come on, Doctor Brennan, third time's a charmer."

Brennan sighed. "I can't believe I'm haggling over experiments."

"Better get used to it," said Scully.

Brennan silently worked her mouth for a moment. Then she said, "Fine. Three guesses."

Mulder shook her hand excitedly. Brennan started. "Great, Doctor Brennan! You might be surprised what we find."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Amor Omnibus Idem

When Brennan visited the lab, Hodgins was hard at work. On a table nearby sat several sample jars, each containing dirt, metal, or a small piece of bone. Each jar rested on top of a piece of paper scribbled with notes. At the moment, Hodgins was looking through a microscope. He didn't look up when Brennan approached. He did speak, though.

"The hand was almost completely clean. Just a lot of dust and grime, but that could be found indoors in a poorly kept room."

Brennan answered, "The hand came from a murderer in a maximum-security prison. It's the bag we need to analyze now, to locate the serial killer."

Hodgins looked up. "Well, that changes things."

"I'm going to have the bag sent over from the FBI. When it arrives, I want to know where it came from. The usual procedure, only faster."

"Gotcha."

"Thanks, Hodgins."

Brennan wondered what Angela and Zack were doing. At the moment, the burden of all significant labor rested on Hodgins. Brennan hoped the other two weren't imbibing too much eggnog to perform their jobs when their turn came.

She had left the three FBI agents to do as they pleased, until Mulder could come up with a guess as to the killer's location. She had told Hodgins the latest information she possessed. What else could she do to speed the process? She looked around the lab. The worst part about Christmas: not enough to do.

* * *

><p>Scully, Mulder, and Booth all remained in Brennan's office. Mulder was fingering the thighbone trumpet. Scully sat with her arms crossed, gazing at the floor. Booth tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. Every hour that killer was free meant two things. One, more people might die. Two, Booth didn't get time with Parker. He hated serial killers.<p>

"So you don't have any idea where this demon might live?" he asked Mulder.

Mulder scraped at some blemish on the thighbone trumpet, then looked up at Booth. "I'm working on that."

"Good, good, he's working on it," muttered Booth.

Scully stood up. "I'm going to call my family, gentlemen. Let me know what you figure out." She left the office.

Booth and Mulder watched her go, then settled back into their previous postures.

"Where do demons usually hang out?" Booth asked.

"Night clubs, I guess."

"Look, Mulder. I want to get this case finished. Brennan's doing her science thing, you need to do your X-Files thing, too. Where would I find a demon?"

Mulder considered. "Depends on the demon. Some inhabit a local landmark, like a waterfall or a bridge. The kind we're looking at is presumably mobile, since this is the first time it's struck in D.C. That means it's relatively powerful. But it's still going to prefer demonic kinds of places."

"Such as?"

"Dark, close places. Dirty. Smelly. Lots of decay. Pretty much anywhere in Washington, D.C. Maybe a senator's office."

Booth laughed. "I have a few in mind."

Mulder laughed, too. "Seriously, though, if it's in the city proper, the slums are our best bet. Or possibly a garbage dump. Or a sewer."

"There's three guesses right there."

"I know, but they've got to be good. Three's all I've got." He shuffled his feet. "You don't think Doctor Brennan will give me a fourth, do you?"

"I don't think she took to you very kindly," said Booth.

"No, I guess not. I have that effect on scientific types."

"Except for Scully," Booth said with half a grin.

He got a similar grin from Mulder. "That took years. We've had some interesting times."

"I can tell."

"Really? How's that?"

Booth shrugged. "Eh, just something you learn to see. Especially when you've been in combat."

"Yeah, sorry Scully brought that up."

"Don't worry about it," said Booth. "She certainly wasn't disrespectful."

Mulder continued examining the thighbone trumpet. After a few seconds, Booth spoke up.

"She's pretty unemotional, huh?"

"Who, Scully? No doubt about that."

"Must be, uh, kind of difficult to work with sometimes."

Mulder smirked and looked down the mouth of the trumpet. "There's definitely some role reversal going on in our relationship."

"So…How have you worked together so long?"

Mulder looked up from the trumpet. For a second, thought Booth, Mulder looked like he was protecting a secret of some kind. Almost like he suspected Booth as an enemy. But as soon as Mulder saw Booth's expression, the look of suspicion fell away. He looked like he suddenly understood a riddle Booth had told.

"We manage," he said simply.

Booth nodded. "One of those things that doesn't really have a procedure?"

"Exactly. You just roll with it."

Booth was still nodding, almost absentmindedly. "Glad it's working."

Mulder smiled for (it seemed to Booth) a long time. "It'll keep working. Don't worry about that."

At that moment, Scully came back into the office. "My family says all my presents are under the tree. We set them out all month."

"Well, we'll get this case finished fast, so you can unwrap them," said Booth. "Mulder's got some ideas about the demon's location."

"I'm interested."

Mulder repeated his speculations to Scully. When he had finished, she said, "Let's look up the most likely places." She walked over to Brennan's desk, sat down, and clicked the mouse of Brennan's computer.

"You said a slum?" Scully asked.

"Start with the dumps. Those are the most probable places."

"The dumps," Scully said, typing rapidly into the computer. After a moment, she said, "There are several dumps in the area. An especially large one is Oasis Waste Management, on the south end of town."

"We'll start there," Mulder said. "Since it's evening already, it might be risky. But that also gives us a better chance of seeing some proof. Agent Booth, are you coming?"

"You're just going to the first dump you find?" Booth asked. "You've only got three guesses."

"I'm counting each guess as a category. 'Some dump' is the first guess."

"Just don't tell Bones that, or she'll think you're cheating."

"Thanks for the tip. You go find Doctor Brennan and tell her we've started searching. Then meet us where we parked."

"Got it," said Booth, and went to find Bones.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Mors Vincit Omnia

Brennan didn't give him any sarcasm about hunting for demons. Maybe the Christmas spirit was getting to her at last. Once he'd told her where they were going, Booth met Mulder and Scully at the parking lot. From there, they drove to the main site of Oasis Waste Management.

No one was working at the dump. It must be too late in the day, Booth thought. The sun was already setting, turning the mounds of trash into black, jagged shadows. A tall crane, still and gray in the twilight, overshadowed Mulder's car. The rats were coming out already. Booth wouldn't have thought a dump could look so spooky.

He grunted as he stepped out of the car. "Can't believe I'm hunting for a demon."

Mulder grinned and said, "I know, finally! You've waited so long for this moment. Just try to contain your excitement."

"Yeah, that's definitely what I meant, Mulder."

Scully also stepped out of the car. She examined her gun. "We don't know how well the target may camouflage. Or if it's impervious to firearms. We need to stay together on this one."

Booth swore suddenly. Mulder and Scully both spun to look at him. "Completely forgot my garlic," said Booth.

Mulder chuckled.

Judging by her body language (with her back to the sun, her face was shadowed), Scully was not amused. "We'll perform standard searching operations throughout the premises. Stay together. At all costs." She gave each of them a long glance, and said pointedly, "Don't talk unless absolutely necessary."

With that, Scully held her gun in both hands, pointed toward the air. She began cautiously circling a mountain of cardboard boxes. Mulder and Booth followed, their guns ready.

As Booth stepped over a stray box, a rat scurried out of it, looking for a fresh hiding place. It squealed, terrified, before retreating into the shadows. It had almost made him swear again. But he bit back the curse. If there was anything out here, he wanted to find it before it found him.

They slowly made their way from one pile of garbage to the next. Several times, they disturbed a legion of rats and mice; once, a possum ran for cover; sometimes an owl or a bat flew by overhead. All the devil's favorite pets, Booth thought sardonically.

He was feeling mildly sorry for himself. Stuck out here with two ufologists, searching for an evil demon Santa in a garbage dump. In the twilight. Worse than that, he'd stepped on something smelly. The odor would probably accompany him the whole time.

But that was nothing compared to what happened to Scully. She was no longer leading the way. Booth had managed to sneak to the front (he had most faith in his own protective skills), and she was now between him and Mulder. Reflecting afterward, Booth wasn't quite sure how Scully became the victim. Somehow, though, after he had already passed a pile of trash bags, a great section of bags tumbled off the pile and landed on Scully. One of them exploded, covering her in its contents, which included chicken skins and several cups of old coffee. After that, Booth's compassion was transferred from himself to Scully.

He had almost decided that, even if there were a demon Santa, it wasn't here. It was nearly dark. But then, he rounded one mountain of trash and saw a small fire flickering ahead. He saw a tall, thin form standing by the fire. Catching his breath, he spun back around the corner as fast as he could. He bumped lightly into Scully, smearing some of the chicken residue on the back of his coat.

Turning to her, he whispered, "There's a fire around that corner."

She whispered back, "A tramp?"

"Possibly. Get your guns ready."

Scully quickly repeated this intelligence to Mulder. Then, all three of them lined up abreast. Booth's fingers counted down to three, and then they rushed out with their guns pointed.

"FBI! Hands up! Hands up!" shouted Booth. "On the ground!" He had spoken before even seeing his target. When he did take in the details, he lowered his weapon right away.

The only person by the fire was a girl, probably in her teens. Tall, gaunt, pale, with dark hair and darker eyeliner. She was wearing a black leather jacket and black jeans. Three tiny metal balls on one eyebrow. With her complexion and getup, she looked like the skeleton of a biker.

She hadn't reacted to being rushed by three FBI agents. Or if she had shown signs of fear, they had missed it. She definitely had not got on the ground, or put her hands up. Her hands were shoved beneath her folded arms, and her face regarded them without expression.

"Who are you characters?" she asked in a dull voice.

Mulder and Scully had also lowered their weapons. Mulder spoke. "That's a good one, coming from you."

"I'm a character on purpose. You people don't know you're characters," she said.

Nobody responded.

"The fire's warm," she said, in the same dull voice.

"What are you doing out here?" Scully asked. "You realize you're trespassing. And starting a fire on private property."

"So put me in jail," the girl retorted.

"Listen," said Scully, "whatever you're doing out here, there's a serial killer on the loose. No one should be out alone at night."

For some reason, the girl chose that moment to smile. "Serial killer, huh? What kind of serial killer?"

Mulder and Booth exchanged glances. Troubled teen, smiling knowingly at reports of a serial killer. A female, no less. Their first human suspect.

"A nasty one," said Mulder. "Strangles victims with a chain. Chewed the hand off one of his victims."

The girl said "Ohhhh," knowingly, and then said, "You mean the Krampus."

Booth felt like swearing again, but he didn't. Don't give the kid too much satisfaction.

"What's a Krampus?" he asked.

"You know what a Krampus is," she said, "that's why you're running around in this dump at night. Right? Looking for a demon haunt."

Booth put away his gun and reached for his handcuffs. "I've heard enough." He took the cuffs out and approached the girl. "I think we need to take you in for questioning, young lady."

"Wouldn't it be easier if you came to my house?" the girl asked, smiling again. "You could use my help. You obviously aren't the folklore type."

"Whatever you have to say, you can say it in custody," replied Booth.

"I didn't kill anyone, okay?" she said, a little irritably.

"Yeah? Well, you know an awful lot about our killer. None of that's been released to the press. Especially not the word 'Krampus.'" He turned to Mulder and Scully. "Think we found your demon right here."

The girl laughed, very loudly. All three agents jumped. After a moment of stifling her laughter, the girl said, "I'm sorry, I just... I know I'm no angel, but…"

"Okay, enough chit-chat, come on," said Booth, moving closer with the cuffs.

The girl smiled again. "Seriously, just come to my house, I'll tell you everything I know."

Booth started to answer. "We don't-"

"Have it your way," said Mulder, stepping up next to Booth. "Do you need a ride?"

"Pretty please," said the girl.

"What's your name?" Mulder asked.

"Florence," said the girl.

* * *

><p>Florence didn't say anything in the car, except the occasional direction to turn right or to keep going. Booth noticed right away that she was leading them out of the city. Mulder and Scully must have noticed, too.<p>

"Where exactly do you live?" Mulder asked, about ten minutes after they left the dump.

"In the most despicable product of societal tyranny. A _suburb_."

"Which suburb?"

The girl said, "You'll see. What? Afraid I'll strangle you all and leave your bodies in a field?"

Mulder sighed. "Where's the next turn?"

* * *

><p>It wasn't just a suburb. It was a gated community called Haven Heights. All the houses were at least three stories tall, and each yard took up a block of its own. The girl directed them to one of the larger houses on a cul-de-sac. As they pulled into the driveway, Mulder and Scully looked at each other apprehensively. Was this really the girl's home?<p>

Florence slid out of the car as reluctantly as possible, and trudged up the driveway to the garage door. It was closed, of course, but she entered a code in the keypad and it opened right away. Apparently it was her house, after all.

"I hope my parents are in bed," she said. "Much as I'd like them to know I almost got arrested, I don't want them giving me a curfew. Again."

"Why were you in that dump?" Scully asked.

"Patience," Florence said. She opened the door leading into the house. "Are you coming, or do I need to wait up for you?"

Scully very much wanted to give this girl an old-fashioned spanking, but instead she followed Florence into the house.

Florence's parents were indeed asleep, so they went upstairs to Florence's room without any disturbance. Inside his head, Booth had exhausted his vocabulary of curses, so he started from the top. Sneaking into a suburban McMansion in the middle of the night with a Gothic girl. Very professional.

Florence's room was no more cheerful than her wardrobe. The walls were covered in black drapes, parted only to make space for macabre posters. Some of Blake's drawings for Dante's _Inferno_, a few by Francis Bacon. There was a bookshelf, too. Mulder examined the titles: _Dracula, Frankenstein, Jane Eyre, Great Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. _Above the heavy iron bed was a plaque; on the plaque was the phrase _Mors Vincit Omnia._

Florence walked over to a desk (a raven made of resin perched on the pigeonholes) and picked up another book. She brought it back to the agents.

"I didn't do all my research from this one," she said, "but it helped the most." She showed them the title: _Monsters of the North_. She went on, "Who knew white people believed in so many demons? I admit I didn't. I thought we confined ourselves to the vampire."

"So what can you tell us about the Krampus?" Mulder asked.

"I'm sure you know the most rudimentary aspects. Goat head. Female garment. Chains. Did you know they sometimes leave silver branches at the homes of their victims?"

"Yeah," said Mulder.

"You said the one here in D.C. chewed someone's hand off. It was probably carried off in a bag, right? Some Christmas demons carry off whole children to devour at their leisure."

Booth looked heavenward. It was really sick. What would possess a young girl to murder total strangers?

Apparently, Florence had discerned his thoughts, because when he looked at her again she was returning his gaze. She said, "I know, you think I'm the killer. But you're wrong."

"Why were you at that dump, huh?" Booth asked. "And practically the first thing you said was that the Krampus hangs out there."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't _know _if the Krampus hangs out there, I said it was a likely spot for a demon haunt. I was looking for it, too."

"Oh, Lord," said Booth. "You went looking for a serial killer?"

"That stockbroker she killed was a friend of my dad's. Besides, I'm safe. I'm guessing you are, too."

"Why? What are you talking about?"

"Honestly, I thought you were looking for a Krampus. Didn't you do any research? Its only victims are the wicked, the cruel, the unjust. Anyone who loves justice is on its side. To the Krampus, you and I are the good guys."

"Even though we're hunting it?" said Mulder. Booth reconsidered his assessment of Mulder as a solid guy. He seemed to be honestly listening to the girl's prattling. They should bring her in. What more evidence did they need?

"Well, you're not going to catch it. So I'm sure it's not too worried." She smiled again. "Would you be frightened of some kids playing hide and seek?"

Booth spoke up again. "Look, fun as all this is, we've got a killer to catch. I know we're looking for a demon, but I think we've found something a little more likely. Let's bring her in for questioning."

"And honestly," said the girl, "do you want to catch this demon?"

Booth did stop a minute to answer that. "Yes, I do. I want to stop the killings."

"Are you sure? You want it to stop?"

Scully said, "Florence, you're not making a good case for yourself."

"Look, I faint at the sight of blood, okay?" she said. "Believe it or not, hard-core Goth girl can't even get a paper cut without feeling queasy. Do you really think I chewed someone's hand off?" She resumed. "I'm like everyone. Too scared to do what needs to be done. But just like all of you, I guess…in one way, I am the Krampus. You are, too."

Booth sighed. "Is that evidence enough for you?" he asked Mulder.

"Just listen, okay, and try not to be a philistine," said Florence. "Think about it. We all wish the people who fight dirty, the wolves, the monsters… we all wish they'd be punished. That's why you're in the FBI, right? You want to protect the innocent and punish the unjust. That's what the Krampus is doing. The Krampus is in all of us, longing for the rod of indignation to strike down from heaven."

She turned to Mulder. "That's what you want, isn't it? I've read your blog."

"Really," said Mulder.

"'The truth is out there.' Maybe it is. But what about the truth that's _in_ there? If we're honest, we know we don't want mercy. We want justice. The kind the Krampus brings."

She faced Booth again. "Guess I'm done."

"Good," he said, with a dry smile. "Then now I'll take you into custody."

Scully said, "Agent Booth, we have no proof this girl is related to the killings. Her interest in demonology doesn't prove anything."

"Two victims dead within twenty-four hours," said Booth. "How often does that happen? These killings need to stop." He addressed Florence now. "Maybe you're innocent. But I want to keep an eye on you, just to be safe."

She shrugged. "Fine with me."

At that moment, Booth's cell phone rang. He answered it. "Booth."

It was Brennan. "Booth, where have you been? There's been another victim."

Booth swore again, aloud this time. "Who? When?"

"Another piece found, this time a leg," said Brennan's voice. "I'm examining it now. The killer must have struck while you three were searching for her… Booth, are you there?"

"Yeah," he said.

"I take it you didn't find anything."

"I thought we had," he said. "Looks like I was wrong. We're on our way, Bones." He hung up, then said, "Another victim."

"Oh, no," said Scully softly.

"Looks like you're off the hook, Florence," said Booth. "Let's get out of here."

Florence said, "Wait! A word of advice." They stopped in the doorway. "If you find the Krampus, you can't bring it into custody. Trying to do so will only make you its enemy."

"I thought you said we were safe," said Mulder.

"You are, now. But if you get in its way, you're obstructing its retribution. Just remember that."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

The Place on the Map

"What have we got, Bones?" Booth asked as he entered the lab.

Brennan was standing at a table, with Hodgins, examining the severed leg. When she heard Booth, she turned around. "There you are! Where were you?"

"We got sidetracked. No Krampus."

"No what? Oh, right. Well, Hodgins and I are trying to pinpoint the location of these…body bags."

Hodgins said, "Both bags show traces of the same dirt and chemicals. My best guess: a really dirty slum."

Booth threw up his hands. "And here we were trudging through a garbage dump!"

Bones said, "So that's what that smell is. It smells like rotten meat."

"It is. So, any specifics? Some special kind of mineral or something?"

"Afraid that's the best I can do with the bags," said Hodgins.

"What about the leg?" Booth asked Bones.

"It's female. Mid-thirties. Not particularly athletic, no unusual diseases or deformities. It could be anybody's leg."

"Great. Just great."

"Booth, where are Mulder and Scully?"

"They went to do research in your office. More about the Krampus, probably."

"Well, tell them my office is devoted to serious scientific endeavor…"

"Yeah, just save it, Bones. The science isn't getting us any closer than Mulder's ideas."

Brennan looked indignant. "We helped narrow the possible locations of the killer."

"Well, Mulder's a step ahead of you. A slum was the first place he thought of, but he second-guessed himself."

"That's a major problem with operating by intuition," Brennan said.

"Meanwhile, another victim gets killed." He glanced at the leg, but quickly looked away. "That's four victims in two days. How long is this going to last?"

Brennan looked at him and said, without blinking, "Until we catch the killer."

Booth returned her solemn gaze. He nodded slowly. "You're right. We can do this."

"We still have a week till Christmas," she added.

"Let's take a little break then, huh? Maybe a nap."

She smiled. "You could use a break. Foraging through a dump for two hours is no fun."

"Was it two hours?… Oh, yeah, we stopped by Haven Heights too."

"Haven Heights? Why?"

"Long story, I'll tell you later. All right, I'm going to take a shower in the decontamination facility. Then I'm going to find a couch and nap. Wake me up around ten."

* * *

><p>"You know, Scully, I wouldn't mind working with Agent Booth again," said Mulder.<p>

Scully didn't reply. She was typing on Dr. Brennan's computer.

"He might not have any patience for cryptozoology, but he seems like a pretty solid guy."

Still no reply.

"What's eating you, Scully?"

She sighed and looked up from the screen. Mulder noticed her hair was full of flyaway strands, and she had circles under her eyes. "Normally, I can maintain an emotional distance between myself and the cases. It's just… it's so close to Christmas."

Mulder let out a long breath and leaned against the desk. "It's been a long year, Scully. You really deserve a long break."

"It's not just that, it's also as if the season is being contaminated. I'm not sure how the Germanic peoples could comfortably picture Santa Clause hobnobbing with this Christmas demon of yours."

"Well, like Florence said. It's a representation of our human nature. Santa stands for our merciful, forgiving side, the Krampus…she stands for something else. Something darker."

Scully sighed again. "Christmas is supposed to be a time of light."

"Hey," Mulder smiled, "it's winter solstice too, remember?"

Scully smiled back.

"What did you find?" he asked after a minute.

"It's like you said. There has been a severe power outage in one of the poorest areas of town. Technicians say they got power up and running again, only to have it shut down five minutes later."

"That's our demon," said Mulder. "Let's tell Booth."

* * *

><p>Brennan was still examining the leg when Zack approached her. She hadn't seen him since reporting the findings on the bite marks. She noticed right away, he was even more wide-eyed than usual. That probably meant he had done something on his own.<p>

"Doctor Brennan?"

"Yes, Zack."

"Since Hodgins was doing most of the lab work, I took the liberty of emailing a friend of mine. I understand he works with the FBI also."

"Go on."

"His name is Charlie Eppes. He's a mathematics professor at CalSci. I told him about the case and faxed him a map marked with the locations of the murders."

Brennan frowned, not in disapproval but with interest. Where was this going?

"I didn't have the necessary data to tell him where the fourth victim's body would be. The one the leg came from. But he was able to predict where we'd find her."

"Did he predict correctly?"

"As a matter of fact, he did. I just finished talking to the police who found her."

"Where was she? Who was she?" Brennan noticed her heart rate increasing speed.

"Carlie Greerson."

Brennan felt like something had hit her in the chest. "Carlie Greerson? She's the woman who was accused of killing those three children."

"Acquitted of all charges," said Zack. Then he added in a melodramatic tone, "But not by the serial killer."

Brennan was thinking fast. "Where was she found?"

"In Cherry Tree Grove. It's a slum not far from Deborah Jennings's house."

"Zack, find Agent Booth. Tell him to call the police and to get more FBI men on the case. And ask your friend if he can predict the next murder location."

"Yes, Doctor Brennan." Before going, he added, "Charlie suggested the killer might live in a slum on the end of town _opposite_ Cherry Tree Grove."

"Thanks, Zack. This is excellent. Good work."

Zack headed for the doors, his face glowing, only to collide with Agent Mulder. Scully was following.

"Sorry, buddy," said Mulder as he rushed to Dr. Brennan's table.

"Doctor Brennan, I have my final guess."

Oh, brother, thought Brennan. "I understand you had two guesses left, Agent Mulder."

"I'll place them both on this one. I had Agent Scully look through the news websites for any reports of severe power outages. Demons are notorious for loving the dark."

Brennan reflected how, with Zack and his math gone, there was a severe intelligence outage in the room. "What did you find?"

"Ever since the first murder, there's been a power outage in Liberty Way. It's a slum on the west side of town."

The west side of town? "Where was Deborah Jennings found?"

"Her house was on the east side. Almost the opposite side of the city from Liberty Way."

Brennan willed the goosebumps on her arms to relax. She refused to be impressed by Mulder's mysticism. Still, this was an exciting coincidence, and given Zack's analysis, Liberty Way was a very likely location for the serial killer.

"Come on," she said, grabbing her coat from a chair close to her table.

Scully asked, "Where are we going?"

"To find Agent Booth. Then we're going to Liberty Way."

"We? You're coming too?" Mulder asked her.

Doctor Brennan looked surprised. "I go on most of the manhunts with Agent Booth."

"Oh. Guess I didn't think you were the type."

"Well, I've tried to get him to give me a gun for a long time now."

Mulder didn't say anything to that. He just rushed after her as she headed for the door.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Ad Lucem

Unfortunately, Zack found Booth and woke him up before Brennan could reach him. Booth let Zack know exactly what he thought of him, but then Zack told him his mathematical findings. When he understood, Booth calmed down and even patted Zack on the shoulder in congratulation.

It was then, when peace was restored, that Brennan, Mulder, and Scully caught up with Zack.

"Booth," said Brennan.

"Yeah, I know, Zack told me."

"We'll need backup."

"We have three FBI agents, Bones. Besides, everyone's probably home for Christmas."

"We could use a little backup, Booth," Mulder said. "This is a vicious killer. Four guns would be good."

Brennan said, "If we can't get any FBI agents, maybe I should have a gun, too."

"No, Bones… You're right, we need another FBI man." Booth quickly pulled out his cell phone. He called someone at the Bureau. "Yeah, it's Booth…I know, but I need backup, it's that serial killer…What? Christmas isn't till next week, they should be working still… Well send whoever's there… Thanks… Bye." He hung up. "Can you believe it?"

"Did anyone respond?" Zack asked.

"They said they'd send someone to meet us there. You ready?" He was looking at Mulder and Scully.

"I want to come!" Brennan said.

"Bones…"

"You have no proof the serial killer can defend herself against four FBI agents. I'm in less danger than I have been on some previous cases."

"She chewed the hand off a murderer in maximum security. You're not going."

"But…"

"We don't have time to argue," said Scully. "If Doctor Brennan insists on coming, then she'll have to stay with us."

"Obviously," Brennan said.

"Fine," said Booth. He pointed at Scully. "If she dies, I'm blaming you."

"Let's just go," Mulder said.

* * *

><p>Traffic was so bad, they used the siren on Mulder's car. Even then, it took them almost thirty minutes to reach Liberty Way. During the drive, they discussed their plan. They didn't know which house the killer was in. They didn't know how they would navigate a dark neighborhood. Mulder had only two flashlights in the car, so he and Scully took one and gave the other to Booth and Brennan. When they arrived, they still had no idea how to find the killer's house. Brennan suggested interviewing locals, but Booth told her that was unlikely and risky.<p>

They parked the car across the street from the neighborhood itself, near an iron fence surrounding an old park. They got out as quietly as possible. Everyone felt as if this was their only chance to catch the killer.

Booth led the way, with Brennan and Scully in between and Mulder in the rear. They crept across the street, which was almost devoid of traffic, and stopped when they reached the sidewalk. Booth looked around. No signs of life. Not the kind of neighborhood where people ventured out in the dark.

Booth knew they'd have to be cautious. They had no idea whether this killer was aggressive, or how stealthy she was. And Mulder hadn't exaggerated: the power outage was indeed severe. Not even a street lamp for blocks. It would be like navigating a cave. He could barely see the three people behind him.

Well, they'd just have to sneak up on her first. He started walking toward the nearest corner. He remembered how he'd rounded the pile of trash, and seen the unexpected fire where Florence was camping.

As he remembered that, a slender dark figure came around the corner.

Booth whipped out his gun and pointed it at the figure. Scully shot a flashlight beam at it. The light revealed a tall, pale man in FBI clothes. FBI clothes.

Scully lowered the flashlight. "Guess you're our backup," she said softly.

"Special Agent Dale Cooper," said the man, in a tight, excited voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you, a real pleasure."

"Shut up, we don't want to be heard," said Booth.

"I just finished investigating that street," the man said, more quietly. "To the best of my considerable knowledge, that entire street has been abandoned for some time."

"An entire street deserted?" Brennan said.

"Because of the power outage," said Mulder. "They're probably looking for safer lodging. Staying under a bridge might be better than this neighborhood in total darkness."

Cooper said, "I discovered more than that. While I was investigating, I thought I heard something in the street perpendicular to this one. I looked over there, near where you later parked your car, and I descried a dark figure creeping over the fence into that park."

Booth hissed. "What kind of figure?"

"Tall, feminine. An oddly shaped head," said Cooper.

"That's our killer," said Mulder.

"So I suspected," said Cooper, "but I wanted to wait for you before pursuing."

"Good choice," said Booth. "All right, she's in the park. Let's go get her."

They climbed over the fence one at a time. Agent Cooper had a flashlight of his own, and he suggested splitting into groups.

"Absolutely not," said Booth.

"We can cover much more ground that way."

Mulder said, "Yeah, but this killer is violent. She subdued a murderer locked in a maximum security cell."

"Hmm. Excellent point, my good man. We remain together, then."

Brennan said, "How are we going to search this whole park?"

Mulder replied, "It should be easier than a garbage dump."

"What's on the other side of the park?" Mulder asked.

Brennan said, "I'm not sure. Booth, do you know?" Before Booth could reply, Cooper spoke up. "If I may be so bold, I have spent the past few months memorizing the street maps of the District of Columbia. Immediately opposite this park is an expensive neighborhood called Whispering Willows."

"Could that be where she's going to strike next?" asked Booth.

Brennan said, "Who lives in Whispering Willows? Any criminals?" Cooper said, "The only resident familiar to me is a war hero, by the name of Harvey Gray. He was the only one of his troop to survive an attack in Afghanistan some years ago."

Booth swore under his breath.

"Booth, what is it?" said Brennan.

"Harvey Gray. They all said he sold out," said Booth.

"What do you mean?"

"The rumor all through the military. Everyone noticed, guy came back from the war a lot richer than he left."

"So, what? Those men all died because of him?"

"That was the story. I never believed a soldier could be that low."

"Sounds like the next victim," said Mulder.

Booth asked Cooper, "How big is the park?"

"It's a children's park," said Cooper. "Not extensive."

"All right, we're going straight across the park. Cooper will lead us to Gray's house. That's where our killer will be."

They ran. Cooper led the way with his flashlight. Booth kept exhorting him to run faster. Brennan had thought to wear suitable shoes, so she was able to keep up with the agents. She didn't indulge the non-rational part of her mind that felt unnerved by the deserted swings and monkey bars. She couldn't be frightened while chasing a serial killer.

She estimated that, whatever her adrenaline told her, it took them ten minutes to run across the park. It was really probable they could make it in time to save Gray. Unless this serial killer could run faster than humans…Stop it, she thought, don't let the ambience get to you.

To leave the park, they hopped another iron fence. They stood on the shoulder of a small avenue; on the opposite side was a tall cement wall. A gated community.

"Great," said Booth.

Cooper said, "I believe we might save time if we circled this wall until we reach a gate. There are several smaller access gates besides the one intended for traffic."

"Where's the nearest one?" Booth asked.

"Follow me," said Cooper.

They crossed the avenue, and Cooper led them along the wall for a few hundred feet. He felt along the wall with his hand. When he no longer felt a wall, he stopped.

"This is a gate," he said, "but it's not well-lighted. Clearly intended for private access."

"That'll work," said Booth. Pushing past Cooper, he kicked the gate in with his foot. From somewhere behind the corner of the wall, an alarm sounded faintly.

"Stealthy, Booth," said Brennan.

"No time for stealth. Come on, Cooper, lead us to Gray's house."

The going was much easier once they entered the neighborhood, where the houses glowed from (clearly authentic) gas streetlamps. They found the house quickly. It was larger than Florence's but smaller than Gregory Fanshaw's. A stylish stucco job, not many windows. Booth noted the large lawn. The outside was lit both by streetlamps and by security lights. They couldn't sneak up on the house. He would just hope the killer didn't look out a window. Because the killer was there: the front door was standing wide open, though the hall inside was dark.

"Okay, _now_ we split up," he said. He gave signals to Cooper, Scully, and Mulder. Scully went around the right side of the house, Mulder around the left. Cooper remained with Booth. Booth then looked over at Brennan. "You stay with Cooper, Bones."

"Are you going inside?"

"Yes, Cooper will guard the front door with you. I've got to go," he told her before she could protest. Then he ran inside the front door.

Not only was the hallway dark, the whole house was dark. It wasn't quiet, though. He could hear loud scrapings and crashes, as if someone was throwing around pieces of furniture. There was also the sound of footsteps. Loud, heavy footsteps, which sometimes moved with surprising speed.

The noises were all coming from upstairs. With all his training in mind, Booth crept up the stairs, pulling out his gun. The noises continued. Then came a sound that almost made him stop.

It was a voice which, to Booth, did sound demonic. The inflection was female, almost teasing. But the pitch was lower than female. And it sounded as if the speaker had a horribly ragged throat from some respiratory plague.

"Harvey Gray," said the voice, "I've seen your lying down and your coming out. I am acquainted with all your ways. I will repay you according to your works." More crashing. "Where are you?"

Booth kept climbing the stairs.

Then, a scream. A very human, very frightened scream, of an older man it sounded like.

Then, pleading. "Oh please, oh no, please…"

"The blood of the innocent," said the voice, "cries out from the sands…"

"Stop, please…"

"He shall smite the wicked with the breath of his mouth…"

"Booth!"

Booth spun around in panic, before he realized it was Brennan whispering behind him.

"Bones, you idiot, what are you doing here?" he whispered back. "Where's Cooper?"

"Booth, listen…"

"Get back downstairs, she's murdering Gray!" Booth whispered, and ran up the stairs before she could stop him.

With gun extended, held in both hands, Booth kicked back the door behind which the sounds were coming. It was a bedroom. A tall form leaned over the body of Harvey Gray. Gray was still kicking his feet, but the chain was already around his neck. The dark form turned, and Booth had to remind himself to steady his gun.

It was the Krampus. A tall form in a long, black robe, with female shape but very broad shoulders. The head was definitely a goat's head. And either it was a remarkable costume, or it was talking.

"Stay back, Seeley Booth," said the Krampus. Booth felt a shiver down his spine. "I know your deeds, that you love justice. Don't obstruct the instruments of righteousness."

Booth swallowed. Dang, it really was a monster, after all. "Step away from that man," he told the demon.

"I give you one more chance to repent from this folly," said the demon. "Go."

"Step away from that man."

"Very well," said the Krampus, and came towards him.

Without hesitation, he pulled his trigger. An empty click. What?

"Booth," said Brennan, immediately behind him, "I have your cartridge."

"Give me that," said Booth, holding up a hand.

Brennan handed him the cartridge, and the Krampus grunted.

"Do you join the workers of injustice?" it asked. "Temperance Brennan?"

"I'm with Booth," she said. Dang, thought Booth, she was calm. Maybe she was immune to the spookiness.

"Then you shall all likewise perish," said the Krampus. It kept coming. It stamped its feet heavily as it walked, but there was a strange grace to the sway of its body. And abruptly, it quickened its pace, reaching them in a few seconds.

Booth was just loading the cartridge when the Krampus knocked the gun from his hand. It threw Brennan to the other side of the room, pulled Booth inside the door, and slammed and locked the bedroom door. A great, clawed hand grabbed Booth's throat and lifted him a few inches in the air. Brennan did scream, then. "Booth!"

Booth kicked the monster in what he guessed was its gut. He noticed the monster expel a fast breath, as if winded for a moment. Good, it could be injured. But it kept tightening its grip on his throat. He had to tell Brennan what to do. He managed to choke out two words.

"The gun!"

Brennan heard. She rushed past the monster, which didn't react quickly enough to stop her. She found the gun, picked it up, and fired.

She hit the Krampus in the back. The bullet should have punctured the monster's lung, but it just grunted and kept strangling Booth. Brennan fired again, in another critical spot, but the monster ignored it. She couldn't hit it in the head; she didn't want to risk shooting Booth.

"Leave me to do my work," said the Krampus. Clearly, it didn't want to kill Booth right away. Like all those who take revenge, it wanted its victims to know why they suffered. "Gray deserves a slower death than this."

Gray! Maybe, thought Brennan, if she released Gray, that would redirect the monster's attention. She rushed to where Gray lay, kicking much more weakly now. He was clawing at the chain, preventing her from unwinding it. "Calm down," she told him, "let go of that chain."

He obeyed, and she began loosening its coils.

As she worked to free Gray, she heard a heavy thud behind her. The monster had dropped Booth. Good. She kept working until the chain was undone. Gray gasped several deep breaths, then his breathing slowed and he started to crawl away. Brennan turned to face the monster.

It was coming for her now. On its way, it grabbed the heavy leg of a chair and wrenched the leg off. A club, thought Brennan's mind frantically, the most primitive and universal of weapons. What weapon could she use on the Krampus, if a gun didn't work?

She heard someone coughing, and the sound of a body dragging itself toward her. Booth.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked the monster.

It didn't stop coming, but it did answer. "I deliver retribution to the workers of iniquity. I punish the criminals your kind sets free. I do the work you would do. But I succeed."

"What about due process?" Brennan asked feverishly.

The demon only growled.

"What about mercy?" Brennan asked.

When Brennan said "mercy," the demon let out an ineffably horrible scream. It swung the club in the air, ready to bring it down on Brennan's skull.

That was when Booth shoved himself in front of Brennan, pushing her supine onto the carpet. He was facing the Krampus. He started speaking now. True, his voice was scratchy from being strangled, but he spoke as loudly as he could.

"The Lord is my shepherd," he said, "I shall not want." The club stopped. "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…"

The monster hissed, but it didn't come any closer. Booth kept talking. He heard pounding on the door, and Scully's voice shouting something.

"The Lord is merciful and gracious: slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy. He hath not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities."

The Krampus hissed again, and it started to back away.

"For as high as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them that fear him. As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us."

The monster screamed again, like it had when Brennan appealed to mercy. But this time, it didn't attack.

"He will turn again, he will have compassion on us…and thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea. Mercy rejoiceth against judgment."

The monster screamed again. But this time, thick clouds of smoke gathered around it; a wave of heat blew across the humans' faces; they closed their eyes, and when they looked again, the monster was gone.

As soon as it vanished, someone kicked in the door, and the three other agents rushed in.

"What happened?" Mulder asked. "Where's the killer?"

* * *

><p>Cooper went back to headquarters. Mulder, Scully, and Brennan went back to the Jeffersonian, to discuss the events over some hot chocolate.<p>

As it turned out, when Cooper heard the noise he decided to reach the bedroom from the back of the house. He had told Brennan to hide, and then had broken in through the back door. Brennan, however, had noticed a gun cartridge lying in the hallway. Somehow, while running through the park, Booth had dislodged it from his gun. It fell out when he whipped out his gun, but he hadn't noticed because of the furniture's crashing around. Brennan followed him to give him the cartridge.

Mulder and Scully had heard the screams too, of course. But, since Mulder was guarding the back door, the moment he decided to assist Booth, Cooper had arrived and interrupted him. They wasted almost a minute arguing about who should go inside. Sipping his hot chocolate, Mulder added, "That guy is weirder than I am."

Scully felt humiliated, because in pursuing the noises she had guessed wrongly and had entered a different room. By the time she found the right one (it was at the end of the hallway), the Krampus had locked the door.

Booth told Mulder that the killer was indeed a demonic goat Santa, and congratulated him for knowing. Brennan took a good twenty minutes to clinically describe her experiences. In the end, Booth said, "Give it up, Bones, you saw a demon."

"I saw something I'm not prepared to explain, given the available evidence," she replied.

Mulder winked at Scully. Scully couldn't prevent herself from grinning.

"Guess our work is done here," said Mulder, rising and tossing his empty plastic cup in the trash. "Time for Christmas celebrations."

Scully said, "My family is more than ready for that." She turned to Booth and Brennan. "Thank you both, for all your help. And your cooperation."

"It was our pleasure," said Brennan.

"We should stay in touch," said Scully. She took a card from her coat pocket and gave it to Brennan.

"Yes, I think I would like that," said Brennan. "I think we can find a lot to talk about." They both shot a glance at the two men standing nearby.

"No doubt about that," said Scully. The women exchanged knowing smiles.

"Well, Mulder," said Booth. He took Mulder's hand and shook it briskly. "Good working with you."

"Same, Booth," said Mulder.

They stood awkwardly for a second.

Booth said, "Oh, what the heck?" and Mulder said, "It's Christmas," and they met in the middle for a hearty hug.

Their Christmas cheer chilled abruptly, however, when they pulled apart and saw the women watching them. Scully and Brennan were standing a good sixteen inches apart. Arms crossed, heads tilted. They were either thinking, "Interesting specimens," or, "Stupid men."

"Cute," Scully said archly.

"Should I pick out curtains for you two?" Bones asked. "Stupid men" it was.

"No, that would be weird," said Mulder seriously.

"Bones just can't tell we're both men," Booth told Mulder. "She'd have to examine our pelvises first."

"Well, I'm headed home, finally," said Scully. "Merry Christmas, everyone."

They all said Merry Christmas. The two FBI agents left. Booth and Brennan stood for a moment, not saying anything.

"Thanks. For…You know," said Brennan, looking at the ground.

"Hey, if you knew any Scripture, you'd do the same for me."

"I think I might memorize some. You never know…"

Booth chuckled. "Merry Christmas, Bones." "Merry Christmas, Booth," she said with a smile. "Now go have fun with Parker."

"Think I will," said Booth. And he headed for the door.

As he was about to leave, he said, "What are you doing for Christmas?"

She shrugged. "Work."

"Yes, you are," said Booth seriously. "You're going to work on a Christmas dish to bring over. Something Parker will appreciate."

She smiled the most awkward, teen-like smile he'd seen in a long time. Not a scientist at the moment. "Is that an invitation?"

"You'd better be there," said Booth. He opened the door. Before walking out, he turned, smiled, and winked at her. Then he left.


End file.
